


I Don't Wanna Fall (Fall Away)

by SlaveToGravity



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Concert, Fear, M/M, Non AU, Thanatophobia, The idea of death, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToGravity/pseuds/SlaveToGravity
Summary: It never occured to any of them that death was so omnipresent.Josh finally sees it.





	I Don't Wanna Fall (Fall Away)

**Author's Note:**

> TW : Mention of death (Idea of death)  
> Thanatophobia : An abnormal fear of death.

          He looks at his hands, his feet, his pale skin covered and deformed by goosebumps created by excitation, enthusiasm, he feels light-headed, ready like never before for this night. They’re in the middle of the Emotional Road Show, and Josh smiles, never stops, his eyes almost closed, his tongue between his teeth, wrinkles around his brown eyes. They shine under the lamps, the spotlights behind the stage, and, for everyone around, his eyes are not brown but honey, almost like gold. Tyler smiles at his side, both listening to the energetic conversations and cheers of the crowd. Children laughing, teenagers crying, adults smiling or couples kissing, everyone in the crowd looks and sounds happy, for even a minute. Josh’s smile becomes even wider as he looks at the crowd from behind the curtains.

          They all cheer for the last song of the opening band. Josh hears Tyler humming, dancing behind him. He’s all ready, dressed in his red jacket, his ski mask hanging from his back pocket. Josh smiles. But slowly, oh so slowly, his smile fades, becomes nothing. He frowns slightly. He stands awkwardly behind the curtains, as black as coal. His jacket and ski mask are nothing compared to this dark color, invading his eyes and thoughts. Tyler’s soft humming becomes numb in his ears, every sound around him disappears, slowly fading away. Tyler dances again, keeps on dancing to feel better, less stressed. Josh wants to join him, to feel the same kind of relief, but he can’t move, his legs don’t work anymore, his arms fall limp against his body, his head tilts. Many, so many scenarii rush in his head. A fall, a technical error, a crazy fan, everything fills his head too quickly, it becomes too much. And, at every new scenario, he sees himself being the victim of some kind of bad luck, bad timing, wrong place. He breathes fast, his lungs feel so little against his gigantic rib cage, claws closing on him like monster made out of bones. Josh sees people, Josh sees Tyler, Josh sees the crew, he sees everyone, but no one’s moving, no one’s reaction to his body laying straight on the ground, blood around him, a hole instead of a heart. The scenarii become worst and worst, and he feels so little under the dark galaxy he sees, he feels, crashing him on the ground. Gravity feels heavier, he hears his bones falsely cracking, and he feels his heart stop. He screams.

          Tyler is here, by his side, but his hands feel like nothing, just old dust plummeting on his shoulders. His eyes can’t focus on what’s in front of him, his head spins, making his vision blurry. He can only see his body, so small, so useless, so dead, laying on the ground, under those exaggerated planets above his head and this colorful galaxy he usually loves. His mouth stays open but no sounds come out, it’s only silent sobs, sniffles, cries and whimpers that shake his body. Yet, while his body stays mute under Tyler’s firm grip, his thoughts rush, invade his head, his heart. Only one sentence, the same words, colliding against the inside of his skull. They’re bold letters, lost in the galaxy, resonating, growing in his skin. Little words burning his throat, he can’t stop his thoughts. _I don’t wanna die_.

          Tyler shakes, he doesn’t understand what’s happening. Yes, Josh has had many anxiety attacks, but usually, he breathes, he makes sounds. Here, Josh doesn’t talk, only whimpers, opens and closes his mouth. It doesn’t make any sense, and Tyler panics, calls for help. Mark runs to them, confusion and fear in his eyes. He doesn’t understand either. They talk to Josh who doesn’t answer, respond to their attempt. They wait. The opening band finishes their last song, the crowd cheers, the silent screams of Josh become louder and louder, until Tyler and Mark finally understand what Josh is screaming, repeating the same words invading his head again and again.

          They try to soothe him, to calm him down, but their voices are nothing against Josh’s screams. So Tyler hugs Josh, and Josh just cries, cries on his shoulder, whimpers on his neck. They wait. Michael asks everyone to wait for Twenty One Pilots. The crowd is confused but patient. They wait for Tyler and Josh to finally do their big and majestic entrance. It takes a certain amount of time for Josh to finally calm down. His whimpers are quiet, almost nonexistent, but they’re here. And, even if the show is about ten minutes late, even if it ends later than usual, even if Tyler and Josh bend down to thank the crowd for their support, even if the global atmosphere is warm and happy, Josh’s whimpers never really disappear, and the image of his dead body crushed by an entire galaxy, ill-treated by gravity, stays in the back oh his mind, haunting his vision every time he blinks. It takes some days for him to feel less threatened by everyone and everything, and it takes even more time for him to finally talk about what happened. He finally understands, under Tyler’s warm embrace, that death is omnipresent, that every new day feels more dangerous and merciless than the last one. And he finally understands what it is to have thanatophobia when, really, there’s no reason to be scared.

**Author's Note:**

> So, well...  
> It was complicated to write it. I have a strange case of thanatophobia (I sometimes have to take meds) and it's really irregular, but I often have crisis. I can't sleep, see myself dead, have so much bad scenarii, sketches, ...  
> I feel stupid and kind of selfish to write it, but I really wanted to show this side of phobia. It ook a long moment for my family to finally accept it (it took them less time to accept the fact that I like both genders...) but well, now they know how to react. It's good.  
> But, on a better note (really, it's not) presidentials are so fudging bad right now. We're going to vote between a fucked-up racist woman who hates homosexuality, immigrants, refugies, wants to close our country and wemon to stop working, and an indicisive man who's secretly not secretly on the right side, which means is kind of like Hillary, but in a younger version. I'm kinda scared you know.  
> But, well, let's hope for the better. I just want to live.  
> Sur ce, see ya ~


End file.
